


Gag me, Mr. Policeman

by Elleh



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternative Universe — Gangsta, Explicit Sexual Content, Gags, Gangsta Oikawa, Kinktober 2017, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Police Iwaizumi, Rimming, it has sort of a backstory but anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2019-01-16 04:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12335679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elleh/pseuds/Elleh
Summary: Oikawa watches him over his shoulder, saliva running down the corners of his gagged mouth. Hajime can see it because the small light in the room shines on the lines it has drawn, down Oikawa’s chin. Hajime’s heart stutters. He can’t take his eyes away from the plastic ball, and the shape it has drawn Oikawa’s mouth into.They stare at each other for a long, charged second before Oikawa sticks his ass out towards Hajime, his hands still hanging at his lower back. As if he were waiting for Hajime to come back to him. As if this weren’t the worst scenario they could have ended up into.





	Gag me, Mr. Policeman

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober day 11's prompt, Gags! How fun, and how enlightening. I must confess writing this has open up so many ideas for other kinky fics it's quite impressive.

Hajime can’t fucking believe his luck. This was supposed to be the best day of his career, dammit. Months and months of hard work, of all nighters, of investigation and interrogations and going back home with headaches and a numbness inside he can’t even think of. Tonight was supposed to be the end of it. Hajime cuffing those damn assholes and sending them to jail. Finally.

No luck with that, it seems. The most tiring case Hajime has worked on in his entire career, and he has fucked it up big time. Because he’s human and a weak man who thought a tender caress at night would help him cope.

“Oh shit,” Oikawa musters when he sees Hajime and his lifted gun, pointing right at his forehead. “Oh, no. Iwa–chan…”

“Shut the fuck up.” Hajime can’t believe this harsh voice is his. The yells of his partners sound around the corner, only seconds away. “Fuck, Oikawa. Are you kidding me?”

“I swear it’s not as bad as it looks.”

Hajime inhales sharply. His hands are shaking, the barrel of his weapon now pointing at Oikawa’s left eyebrow, now at his right, back to the left. Hajime can feel his heartbeat in every vein of his body, the rivers of sweat down his temples, on his nape. The air is so filled with dirt and wrongness he’s not sure if what he’s inhaling is oxygen or poison.

“Iwa–chan.”

“Shut it.” Oikawa closes his mouth. His eyes dart to the door, the echo of footsteps getting louder with each passing second. Hajime feels the drum of his heart in his tongue, when he curses and barks, “Follow me. And take that damn gun with you. Dammit.”

Hajime can’t answer Oikawa’s widen eyes when they fall on him again. He’s gaping, probably trying to understand what piece of brain Hajime has just lost. “Iwa–chan—”

“Stop calling me that.” It burns, the pet name a slap on Hajime’s cheek every time their stupid dates project into his mind, and that awkward, blushing kiss Hajime had given Oikawa two nights ago. On the damn porch. Like the stupid loser he obviously is. “Let’s go.”

Betrayal is nasty and tastes fool on his mouth, when Hajime runs through the opposite door. He doesn’t need to look back to see Oikawa following him, aware of his damn presence as if he were an earthy ghost. Shit, he has it hard and the pain is gonna be pretty great once the adrenaline finally settles in. Hajime mourning his honor and a broken heart will be the peak of this year.

They cross the corner right in time to hear the rest of the police team breaking into the room. Hajime’s running blindly, and when he ends up into a cul de sac, he stops dead on his tracks, breathing harshly.

“They are near.”

“I know.” Hajime can’t bring himself to look at Oikawa.

“If we don’t move—”

“I know!”

Oikawa intakes a sharp breath, and Hajime has to hold the urge of kicking him, when he says in a calm, composed tone, “I know a way out. There’s a club right there,” he points at one of the buildings. “It closed over a month ago. We can hide there until they leave.”

“Whatever.”

Hajime follows Oikawa inside the damn club, a secret door behind a pile of boxes. The fact Oikawa picks the lock in less than twenty seconds should bring vile to Hajime’s mouth, but instead an awful feeling pretty close to pride crawls on the back of his throat.

Hajime tries to swallow it down convulsively, but there’s no use.

The corridor’s light is dim and almost nonexistent. Oikawa pushes Hajime inside, and fixes the boxes before closing the door, drowning them in darkness. The absence of light seems to put on full volume their breathings, and Hajime can’t but notice how uneven Oikawa’s is.

“Iwa–chan—”

Hajime turns around and starts walking, ignoring the sting of regret in Oikawa’s voice. There’s no time for pet names or apologies. Hajime needs to think. A way out, an explanation, a reason for his heart to stop beating so furiously.

He finally finds a room with enough daylight to see the shape of his hands. There’s a loud thud on his temples Hajime can’t get rid off of, and the more he thinks of it, the more he frowns, the worst it gets.

“Iwaizumi,” Hajime flinches. The name sounds weird and foreign in Oikawa’s serious tone. “We need to talk.”

“No. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“But what you just did—”

Hajime steps forward. There are several closets on the walls, and to keep himself away from Oikawa’s choking presence, he opens them up and starts looking through.

It’s a bad idea. Of course it’s a bad idea. This is, after all, the shittiest day his career has ever seen, not speaking of his love life. A _thug_. A thug, of all things. Hajime has trouble understanding how big he can actually fuck up, when his fingers clash with the gag.

Oikawa’s still talking, although Hajime has stopped listening a while ago. The soft rumble of his voice is alluring, though. Hajime, weak as he is, allows the caress of that voice to filter through his system and break even more what had been right and fair just five minutes ago.

“Iwa–chan, are you listening?”

Hajime will argue this was an action orchestrated by fury and rage. Hajime’s now a thoughtless animal moving on instinct, and when he grabs Oikawa and turns him around, he’s not even aware of what he’s doing.

“What the—”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“Are you—” But Oikawa’s angry words are cut by the plastic ball of the gag. Hajime’s stomach shivers when Oikawa’s complain becomes a muffled moan, and the already fool mood he’s in worsens.

Before he can stop himself, Hajime grabs Oikawa’s wrists and pushes them on his back, arching his chest forward. He’s burning up. A rush of heat shoots through his system when he feels Oikawa’s body adjusting to the position, his ass dangerously close to his crotch.

Hajime’s lungs are on fire. He wants to lean forward and rest his forehead on Oikawa’s nape. He wants to push him against the dusty bed and scream at him before running away.

Gods, he wants to go back to yesterday’s night, when they had been texting cute and clumsy sexy stuff before going to bed. It had felt so good, so simple. Hajime had lay on the bed and had fantasized with the idea of a lover who’d welcome him home, who’d comfort him on the late hours of the night when the nightmares come to haunt him. It had been so simple, Oikawa’s stupid text messages, the memory of Oikawa’s soft lips.

“Dammit, Oikawa.”

Hajime gives in into temptation, and lets his forehead rest against Oikawa’s back. The furious beating of Oikawa’s heart sounds like a drum giving way to the beginning of a battle.

After a minute, Oikawa says something, but the gag keeps his words from coming out. Hajime grimaces, not proud of the mess he has made, but stays where he is.

“I’m not taking it out. If I do, you’ll start talking, and I can’t listen to your excuses right now.” Oikawa exhales soundly through his nose, and Hajime has to fight back a chuckle at the pissed sound. “Don’t worry, it’s not as if I’m gonna take advantage of you.”

And yet, Hajime’s hands are still holding Oikawa’s wrists, and Oikawa’s still fairly defenceless against a strong, trained policeman. The image is disturbing enough for Hajime to bring his hands up in the air and take a step back, eyes widened in panic.

“Shit. I didn’t mean—”

Oikawa watches him over his shoulder, saliva running down the corners of his gagged mouth. Hajime can see it because the small light in the room shines on the lines it has drawn, down Oikawa’s chin. Hajime’s heart stutters. He can’t take his eyes away from the plastic ball, and the shape it has drawn Oikawa’s mouth into.

They stare at each other for a long, charged second before Oikawa sticks his ass out towards Hajime, his hands still hanging at his lower back. As if he were waiting for Hajime to come back to him. As if this weren’t the worst scenario they could have ended up into.

“Oikawa—˝

A muffled sound of protest comes from Oikawa’s throat, deep and low. Hajime flinches when the sound fills his stomach with warmth and anticipation.

Tired with Hajime’s stillness, Oikawa takes a step back and saves the distance between their bodies. Hajime can’t but hold his hips when his ass crashes against his crotch, and they both inhale sharply. Hajime curses softly. Oikawa wheezes against the gag.

“I’m not fucking you,” Hajime tells Oikawa, while his hands roam around his hips to his chest and back to his back where his hands are still put.

Hajime wants it to be true. Gods, the mere thought of another lie to be added to the growing pile is enough to make him step away. But then Oikawa moans softly, and wiggles his ass against Hajime, and what’s true and what’s right gets lost on the moment.

“Why are you doing this, dammit?” Hajime digs his fingers on Oikawa’s wrists, and pulls softly. Oikawa’s shoulders are drawn back, forcing his ass to stick out. “Do you want me to fuck you _here_ ? Like _this_?”

Hajime’s breathless when he sees Oikawa nodding eagerly. “Are you serious?” his whisper seems to call Oikawa’s attention, for he sends him a pleading glare over his shoulder and nods again. A sharp, single movement that strikes Hajime as if hit by lightning.

Reason is lost after that. Somehow Hajime finds himself stripping Oikawa’s pants with three harsh pulls, and pushes him against the plastic cover of the bed, sending dust flying.

Oikawa has his hands still inside Hajime’s, so he falls on his face and shoulders, his naked ass up and ready for Hajime’s devices. Hajime can’t but notice the soft pale skin of his buttocks, and the image of his fingers imprinted in red goes directly to his cock.

“You want me to fuck you, then.” Oikawa moans on the gag, and Hajime despises how much that turns him on. “Harsh.” Hajime makes a fuss undoing his belt, and he sees Oikawa’s cock twitch in answer. “A hurried fuck so we can forget what a little lying bastard you are.”

Hajime sees Oikawa shiver, his eyes closed. He’s not sure if his words have ruined the moment or not, but then Oikawa stands on his toes and raises his ass in clear invitation.

With his pants undone, a hand inside his underwear stroking slowly his cock, Hajime watches Oikawa on the bed, legs spread, his hips softly rocking against the covered surface. He’s watching Hajime over his shoulder again, the gleam of his hazy eyes as endearing as the gag on his mouth is alluring.

A part of Hajime regrets the plastic ball, for it deprives him of the sounds Oikawa’ll make and the potential use he could give to that stupid mouth of his. Kisses in this situation is just a stupid thought, and Hajime tries to lie to himself thinking it was a blowjob what he was really thinking about.

Hajime strokes himself faster, and Oikawa’s eyes fall on his shadowed hand. The change on his breathing is subtle, but enough for Hajime to lick his lips and imagine it’s Oikawa who’s doing it. He can’t see the details in Oikawa’s body. If he has scars, or freckles, or if the color of his balls is as delicious as his skin’s is.

The thought is choking. Hajime takes his hand away from his cock and pushes his underwear and pants a bit further down, enough to free his swollen length. Oikawa’s eyes are glued to Hajime’s crotch, until Hajime’s so close to him there’s no way he can actually see anything.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” Hajime slaps his asscheek, and Oikawa whimpers against the gag, “you won’t be walking straight tomorrow.”

Hajime has trouble breathing. The image of his hand imprinted on the pale skin of Oikawa’s ass is breaking something in him, restrain or maybe sanity. His fingers caress the print they’ve made with tender care, coaxing soft moans from Oikawa’s throat. The fact he can’t say a single word is now growing on Hajime, and with deliberated slowness, Hajime opens Oikawa’s buttocks and stares at him.

And stares, and stares. Oikawa’s breathing shallowly by the time Hajime lets his finger follow the line of his ass, teasing the twitching entrance, following till his swollen balls. Oikawa pushes against him, pleading for more, and Hajime’s touch vanishes.

When their eyes lock, Oikawa’s wearing a desperate film on his blurred eyes. Hajime smiles, wolfishly. “Oh, right. I said I was gonna fuck you fast and hard, right?” Oikawa nods. “Well, I lied.” Oikawa whimpers. “I’m gonna fuck you hard and slow, so you won’t be able to walk nor forget who fucked you senseless.”

Hajime knows he’s gone a bit mad when he falls on his knees, surrounded by Oikawa’s legs. He spreads Oikawa’s asscheeks again, and after sending a warm breeze of air against his hole, Hajime goes full on it.

The gag barely covers Oikawa’s loud moan. Hajime licks his entrance with slow teasing, soft touches that have Oikawa standing on trembling legs. The picture of Oikawa’s expression right now, desperately gasping against the gag to bear with the sensations is a direct hit to Hajime’s cock. He feels the head drip, and in answer, he pushes his tongue inside Oikawa and sucks.

Oikawa’s hips leave the bed for a second, and Hajime digs his tongue deeper. Muffled sounds of pleasure and desperation fill the room. Hajime takes his tongue out and teases the tense rim of muscles. Oikawa whines. It’s amazing how a simple sound can make every nerve on one’s body go nuts with arousal.

Hajime’s not sure how they’ve come this far. From an almost virginal kiss on a porch to full rimming in the span of two days. Hajime’s conscience would be worried if the loud voice of his cock weren’t as loud as it is. Listening to the demands of his throbbing cock, Hajime puts his tongue inside Oikawa again, and starts fucking his hole in a rhythm that has Oikawa jerking against the bed in seconds.

The sounds of the gag, the ruffle of plastic every time Oikawa moves to get closer, the image of Oikawa’s expression broken by pleasure. The moment builds around them, making Hajime painfully hard, precum wetting the head of his cock.

Hajime strokes himself because ravishing Oikawa’s hole with his mouth is too good to keep himself from doing so. Oikawa’s muffled screams are now coming out with no pause against the gag.

With a last lick from his hole to his balls, Hajime takes his mouth away from Oikawa. They are both panting, but Oikawa’s breathing sounds louder and harsher. Hajime bites his lip and holds the base of his cock, trying to refrain the urge of finishing himself with a clumsy hand-job.

When he feels steady enough, Hajime stands. Oikawa has tears running from his eyes and saliva wetting his chin and cheek. He’s watching Hajime with a cloud of need covering his expression, but Hajime can’t but ask, “Are you— Is this alright?”

Oikawa nods weakly, and pushes his ass against Hajime’s cock, softly brushing its head against his buttcheeks. They both hold their breaths at the sweet feeling of it.

Hajime stares at his bare ass for a long second, his hands already there. The red remains of his slap are already fading, and unable to control himself, Hajime slaps Oikawa again. Harder.

Oikawa lifts his head in answer, his back arched. Hajime watches the reaction on his expression, and when Oikawa looks back at him with widen eyes, he does it again. Oikawa’s lips move on the gag, trying to swallow the rush of pleasure Hajime’s hits send through his body.

“You like it rough, don’t you?” Oikawa rolls his eyes when Hajime squeezes his flesh and hits it again. The sudden urge of biting him crosses Hajime’s mind. Fuck it. He has sent flying any sense of coherent thought or shame the moment he put the gag in Oikawa’s mouth anyway.

Hajime leans forward and bites the cheek he has just hit. Oikawa trembles. His hands are now on the bed, grabbing with all his might the plastic, crumpling it on his fists. Hajime licks the mark of his teeth. Oikawa cries against the gag.

At Oikawa’s sounds, Hajime finds himself thinking with urgency, _I need to fuck him without that thing on his mouth_. He pretends there’s a future encounter where they’ll be able to make it happen. The head of his cock is red and swollen when Hajime looks at himself, the image of all the lewd things they could do playing on his mind like a movie. Hajime feels his cock palpitate, the memory of Oikawa’s tight ass engraved on his tongue. He wants to get in. Dammit, he wants to fuck him into a parallel dimension.  

Hajime steps away from Oikawa, drawing a long moan of protest from his gagged mouth. Not paying any attention to Oikawa’s needy presence, Hajime rushes through the closets and drawers, until he finds a bottle of lube.

Oikawa said they’d closed a month ago, which means it’s good to go. Hajime opens the cap and smears it on his fingers. Oikawa’s watching him with widen nostrils, while Hajime spread the lube through his fingers.

“Open your legs.” Oikawa tries to. “More.” There’s no way Oikawa can open up more without falling from the bed, but Hajime doesn’t care. He grabs one of his legs and bends it, forcing the knee up into the bed. Oikawa’s hole is a tempting and magic show, Hajime just a puppet under his theatrical spells.

The thought is as accurate as it is despairing.

More lube is poured on Oikawa’s ass. Hajime smiles with mischief at the sight of Oikawa’s hole shiny and ready. Yes, Hajime might be the idiot in this device, but he has also a swollen cock and a desire big enough to explode into a supernova. He doesn’t even tease Oikawa’s ass when he puts one finger up to the knuckle, tearing a long loud moan out from him. Hajime bends it and moves it a bit, stretching him up.

Not much time passes before Hajime has three fingers in, fucking Oikawa. Oikawa’s back is arched, again standing on the tips of his toes. The way his hips are answering Hajime’s movements is intoxicating.

“Shit.” Hajime has his fingers out and his cock bathed on lube before the order registers. He grabs Oikawa’s hips, his fingers so harsh he can already see the bruises there. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

With a single thrust, Hajime enters him. They both moan, Hajime a loud groan that fills the space, Oikawa’s a soft muffled sound that sends a thread of electricity down Hajime’s chest and right into his cock.

Hajime’s good on his promise. He fucks Oikawa hard, so hard he’s sure he’s deep till the balls, the sound of their skin crashing as good as it is hearing Oikawa trying to scream in pleasure, and failing. Oikawa feels so good and warm and tight. Hajime spreads his ass and watches himself get buried on Oikawa’s flesh. The view is almost enough to make him burst, but Hajime has also promised he’d do it slow.

Oikawa is swirling his hips and clenching his hole. He’s close. The way he closes around him tells Hajime as much. Hajime wonders what sort of expression Oikawa will have once he orgasms, but it’s not time for it yet. Hajime pushes Oikawa’s hips up and manages to grab his cock, throbbing and hard as a rock. He holds its base right on time to stop Oikawa from coming. Hajime grunts when Oikawa’s ass closes tightly on him.

“Hard and slow, remember,” Hajime huskily whispers on Oikawa’s ear. “I’m gonna bring you so close so many times, that once you actually come you will fucking faint.”

Oikawa whimpers, and Hajime goes back to his ass. The view is perfect. Oikawa’s hole sheathes his cock as if they’ve been fucking for months. The thought is bitter and yet the warmth it brings to his belly translates directly into his cock. He starts thrusting on him again, sharp hits and yet slows in and outs. Oikawa’s shivering.

“You should see how you look,” Hajime grunts thoughtless. “The way your ass takes me, it’s driving me insane.”

Oikawa clenches his hole in answer, and Hajime groans. He fastens his speed, just the right amount for Oikawa to rock his hips back, finding him midway.

“Shit, Oikawa. I wanna fuck you senseless.”

The gag catches Oikawa’s cry out, but it doesn’t stop Hajime from sensing it around his cock, on his hands. Oikawa’s sweaty, the pale skin smooth and perfect under Hajime’s fingers. On a daze, Hajime pulls up Oikawa’s shirt, baring the elegant line of his spine. It’s beautifully arched, the soft curve accentuated by his ass sticking out and meeting Hajime’s cock. Hajime lets his finger run down the soft line, pass his lower back and right into where his cock is hammering Oikawa into sweet oblivion.

Hajime breathes shallowly when the tip of his finger falls right into Oikawa’s ass. He’s wet with lube and filled with Hajime’s cock, and the feeling of his own dick fucking Oikawa has him playing with the idea of slipping it in.

“If we had time,” Hajime tells him, although it’s a bad idea, although this should have never happened in the first place, “If we had another day, I’d love to see you ride my cock and a dildo. You know? Like this.” Hajime puts his finger inside, just the tip, but Oikawa whimpers so loud it almost breaks the barrier of the gag. “You like it?” Hajime waits until Oikawa regains enough conscience to nod. He pushes the finger deeper, and the new intrusion forces him to change the angle of his thrusts. “Of course you do. You’d fuck two dicks at the same time any day, wouldn’t you.”

Oikawa’s trembling when he nods and then shakes his head and then nods again. Hajime starts thrusting faster, with his finger and his cock, and Oikawa moves the leg on the bed just a bit. On his next hit, Oikawa almost breaks his back when he arches it off the bed, in a silent scream. Tears fall from his widen eyes. Hajime repeats the movement, and when his cock hits once more Oikawa’s sweet spot, he can’t help himself.

Fuck slowness. Hajime grabs Oikawa’s shoulders and leans forward just a bit.

“Grab your cock and stroke yourself.”

Oikawa has problems following the order, Hajime’s thrusts fast and harsh, the feeling of two fingers now stretching what shouldn’t give more overwhelming. Oikawa’s gone into misty pleasure land, and Hajime has to repeat the order two more times before Oikawa manages to slip his hand under his body.

Hajime regrets not seeing him. Not his face when he comes nor the way his cock spills all over the bed. The rage of knowing this moment will be the last moment they’ll ever have has Hajime pumping into Oikawa with mad abandon, fucking his hole until his own orgasm hits him hard enough to leave him blind.

Hajime comes with a loud groan. Oikawa’s hole is clenching and squeezing him dry, and the muffled sounds of his overstimulated ass take Hajime to a sweet spent darkness.

Reasoning comes back into him in slow waves. He registers Oikawa’s sweaty back against his face and chest, the low grunt of discomfort loud enough to wake him up from his orgasmic daze. Hajime pulls out of Oikawa and undoes the gag, that falls lewdly wet in front of Oikawa’s face.

“Are you okay?” Hajime hates himself for needing to ask.

On the time Oikawa takes to answer, Hajime lets his body fall on the bed at his side. He feels tired and sore and empty and dammit, Hajime wanted their first time to be on his bed so he could wake up the next morning with Oikawa by his side.

But next mornings are out of the question, now. Hajime can’t have a relationship with a gangster.

“Iwa–chan,” Oikawa’s voice is broken and hoarse. Hajime lifts his eyes despite himself to answer Oikawa’s glazy ones. “That was the best fucking I’ve ever had.”

Hajime shrugs. He has no words for him, nor for himself. Hajime’s unsure of what this means, but the feeling of wrongness now filling him is hint enough.

Oikawa blinks at him, and when a sad smile settles on his lips, Hajime has to tear his eyes away. He’s surprised when he lets Oikawa’s fingers caress his jaw. Hajime blames the orgasm, but deep down he knows he’d let Oikawa do almost anything.

“I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

“I know—” Oikawa sighs deeply. “I know what you saw looked pretty bad, but it has a reasonable explanation.”

“Are you an undercover agent?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t care.” Hajime sits. He’s about to fix his clothes and get the hell out of here when Oikawa’s hand closes on his forearm.

Hajime’s weak, so he stares back at him.

“I really, really like you, Iwa–chan.”

There’s a damn blush on Oikawa’s cheeks when he says that, and Hajime wants to curse him to hell. Even more when the words bring a soft brush of relief through his chest.

“Oh, well, then everything’s fine.”

“I’m serious.” Oikawa frowns, and tears his hurt gaze away. “I know this, uhm, difference between our jobs is not ideal, but—”

“No, Oikawa.” Hajime leans forward. “Having a job in which you need to travel five times every week is not ideal. This?” Hajime waves between them both. “This is impossible.”

“I swear that was not what it looked like.” Oikawa sits as well. Hajime’s arm is taut with the need of holding him closer. “I was— Look, it’s complicated, okay? I’m in, but I don’t wanna be anymore. You need to believe me.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Hajime stands. He fumbles with his pants, the warmth of Oikawa’s gaze a constant distraction. Hajime doesn’t want to turn around and face him, but the reminder this is the last time they’ll ever have crosses his mind again. So he gives in, because Hajime is, obviously, the worst policeman in this fucking country.

Oikawa’s pouting. His eyelashes are still wet with tears, a harsh red mark on his cheeks from where the gag had been just mere minutes ago. Hajime has the urge to apologize, but Oikawa’s faster.

“Iwa–chan, please.” His gaze is on his feet now. “Could you give me some time? I’ll make it right. I’ll even—” Oikawa swallows. “I could work for you, if that’s what it’ll take for you to believe me.”

Hajime goes cold at the thought. Informers die really unfortunate, painful deaths. Hajime has seen them enough times to have nightmares about them. He’ll be damned if he puts Oikawa’s life at risk just for an investigation.

Hajime’s about to say as much when it finally registers. The answer is right there when that certainty comes to his lips. He doesn’t want Oikawa hurt because of course he likes the damn criminal bastard. Texts and dates and laughs together. Hajime cherishes those as much as he will cherish this unthinkable rendezvous they just had.

“I like you too,” he says despite the loud voice on his head telling him what an idiot he is. “But this can’t happen. You understand that, don’t you? You’re a criminal. The fact I helped you escape is already bad enough. I could lose my job for this. Damn! I _should_.”

“Don’t say that.” Oikawa’s head is still bowed forward, and Hajime grows tired of looking at his disheveled hair. There’s a cloud of sadness misting his eyes when Hajime forces him to lift his chin. “I’m sorry, Iwa–chan.” Oikawa sniffs soundly. “I’ve been trying to get out since we—” Oikawa clears his throat. “But I wasn’t fast enough. I thought the clues—” Oikawa opens his eyes widely when he hears his own words, and he giggles as if the sound of his desperate laugh could distract Hajime. “I mean, I tried, but I couldn’t get out and now I’ve lost you too and I’m sorry.”

Hajime lets go of Oikawa’s chin with calculated slowness. Oikawa shifts, uncomfortable. Hajime’s not a detective for nothing, and Oikawa must have gotten to the same conclusion because his eyes dart around the room, escaping from Hajime’s knowing ones.

“What clues.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.” Hajime leans forward suddenly, his hands on Oikawa’s knees. Oikawa’s so surprised he can’t jerk back. Their mouths are a breath away when Oikawa’s eyes finally answer Hajime’s hungry smile. “It’ll all be different if you were actively trying to help the police, you know.”

Oikawa shrugs. “If only I were.”

“Not only it’ll save your life,” Hajime continues as if Oikawa hasn’t spoken. “But it’ll mean we can actually see each other.”

Hajime chuckles softly when Oikawa squints, interested. “You’re playing me. You say that because of course I’ll have to work with the police and help _you_ with the case. So I’ll _see_ you, but not the way I want to. I rather fix this myself than live that torture, thank you very much.”

“Are you deaf or did I actually fuck your sense away?” Oikawa blushes deeply, and Hajime can’t help it. He leans forward and leaves a soft peck on his pressed lips. “Didn’t I just tell you I like you too?”

“You could be lying.”

“I’m not the criminal here.”

“So what? I was the one leaving hints. It changes nothing.” Oikawa pushes Hajime away and stands, grabbing his pants from his ankles and clumsily putting them back on. Hajime tells himself staring right now would only make him an asshole, but he can’t control his eyes when they roam around Oikawa’s naked legs. “Stop staring.”

“If you had come to us sooner, we’d have helped you.”

“I’m not gonna piss you off answering that stupid statement.”

“Oikawa—”

“I want to be with you,” Oikawa says with strength, his pants finally covering him. “Help me be with you.”

“Okay.”

They stare at each other, meters apart, for a long second filled with tension and promises and anticipation. Hajime feels his fingers flinch with need, but there’s a voice, loud and unnerving, telling him this is not how police work is done. This is not how the law works.

But then Oikawa finally steps forward and throws his arms around Hajime’s shoulders, and they are finally kissing, and Hajime’s mind short circuits.

They’ll make it happen, somehow. With Oikawa’s lips on his, Hajime tells himself, how can they not?

 

**Author's Note:**

> (˵¯̴͒ꇴ¯̴͒˵)
> 
> you can check all my other works here in [my blog](https://negare-boshi.tumblr.com/post/165927379666/kinktober-2017-ft-iwaoi)!


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